


Déjà Brew

by CrabbyMaiden



Series: Puns for the Soul [2]
Category: Horrortale - Fandom, Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops??, Alternate Universe - Horrortale, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Anorexia, Coffee Shop, Drabble, Eating Disorders, F/M, Female Frisk, Fluff, Happy Ending, HorrorTale Sans, How Do I Tag, Kind of Yandere but not really?, Love at first sight?, Mostly just a low-key creeper, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-Undertale Neutral Route - Empress Undyne Ending, Reader Has Issues, Romance, Sans Has Issues, Slice of Life, Soulmates, Stalker-ish Sans, Surprise! - Freeform, Teenage Frisk, Writer Crab Hijinks, You're a mother, drama??, everybody has issues, reader is female, stupid jokes, you're a mother harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-14 08:51:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13586589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrabbyMaiden/pseuds/CrabbyMaiden
Summary: It was a cold, dark night... What a lovely time to meet your soulmate! You're a bit tipsy and he's a bit creepy, but hey! Everybody has their issues!





	1. A Skeleton Walks Into a Park...

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back! I reeeeeally wanted to try my hand at writing HorrorTale Sans because he has a totally different mindset than other characters I've written! Psychological issues for daaaaaays! It's so much fun to try working in stuff to hopeful show the readers my take on him: flip-floppity emotions, post-traumatic stress, obsessive habits... There's just so much to work with! 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy my take on this!

 

 

 

 

A tugging in his soul is what dragged Sans from his lethargic thoughts and trance-like walk.

 

He blinked slowly, his left eye faintly glowing a haunting red as he tilted his head to observe his current surroundings as he shuffled to a stop on the sidewalk. He was vaguely confused about the lack of snow, furrowing his brow as he racked his mind for something he may have forgotten. The sight of a nearby park and apartments didn't match up to Snowdin and he didn't recall wandering into another section of the Underground.  He tapped his skull nervously, peering up at the sky: it was dark outside, pairing with the pumpkin orange moon to remind him that it was nighttime on the _Surface_. 

 

Yes... That's right. Monsters were on the Surface now, weren't they?

 

The memories of being freed several years ago came rushing back to him and he sighed in relief, yet he couldn't help but wonder why wasn't he at home with Papyrus? 

 

Sans had to admit, he often forgot minuscule things thanks to the gaping hole in his head, which lead to... Unusual behaviors, but waking up to find himself prowling around at night? That was new, even for him. Was he falling into the habit of patrolling for food, like he did Underground? It was unnecessary, as the Queen - the _real_  Queen, not Un _dick_  - ensured that monsters were never without food due to their previous living conditions.

 

_why the hell am i out here?_

 

The sensation in his soul became stronger, practically jerking it and making his eye snap down to stare at his chest as a frown tugged at his ever-present grin. His eye darted around, searching for a threat that may have been messing with his soul before the feeling became too much and he began moving forward. The relief was almost instant, the yanking dying back down to a gentle tug that was leading him along by a metaphorical chain.

 

A million questions were flying through his head and his fingers twitched with the urge to lash out in annoyance.

 

Following the feeling, Sans crossed the street and walked into the wooded park while a sense of dread began building in his gut. If he could, he would throw up from how nauseating these sudden _things_  occurring inside of him were. It felt as though someone had set his bones ablaze and his soul rattled in his chest as he entered deeper into the park, unsettling him completely.

 

He had an inkling as to what was happening, but it was trapped in the fuzzy recesses of the constantly pounding headache his broken skull tormented him with. All he knew was that he felt like he was going to die if he didn't make it to where his soul was taking him. He felt _euphoric_ , crazed, _delighted_ , agitated and sick all at the same time. 

 

It was a cocktail of emotions he wasn't used to and there was no logical explanation _why. Why_  was he here, surrounded by trees on a small, winding path in the park in the middle of the night?

 

_hell if i know._

 

That was, of course, until he stumbled across a lone human.

 

The sight of you made him stop dead in his tracks, ducking behind a tree before you could notice him. His soul throbbed and the pulling _stopped_ , only to be replaced by a buzzing that made his bones tremble with a grand realization. The world seem to slow to a halt and he couldn't tear his focus away, but the dread remained in his non-existent gut as he stared at you from behind the tree.

 

Bony fingers hooked into his empty eye socket, anxiously tracing the rim as he drank in the sight of you. 

 

_it's them it's them it's them..._

 

The whispers in his head made him want to scratch the inside of his skull to get rid of the sudden vibration of longing that rattled around inside of him. He knew then and there _what_  was happening to him as the answer finally flew from the haze and into the forefront of his mind in an unusual moment of clarity. Clarity brought to him by his never-ending migraine dulling into a mild throb.

 

_you've got to be kidding me._

 

After all of this time? So many years in _hell_ , wondering when "fate" would slap him with another mouth to feed? Another burden to carry? He thought - **_prayed_**  - that you didn't exist. Now you're here all of a sudden?! _You_ , his soul-

 

A shaking sob derailed Sans' train of thought.

 

You sat on a wrought-iron bench that overlooked a pond, hunkered over and sniffling in a way that set off his predator instincts as he recalled the humans he would _butcher_ - no. You were shivering pathetically the way the humans would when lost in the snow, ready to be _fed to Papyrus_ - He had to shake his head free of such thoughts, firmly reminding himself that humans were no longer _food_  for monsters. 

 

_You_  weren't _food_.

 

Instead, he forced himself to soak in your appearance, his crimson eye roving over you critically. You were clad in a black cocktail dress that, while it covered your arms with long sleeves, it left your back exposed to the chilly air. A pair of black high heels were carelessly kicked off on the ground in front of you and you clutched a small purse in your hands like it was your lifeline. Putting these and the stylish updo your hair was placed in, he could gather that you had come from some fancy-schmancy event.

 

Sans didn't care about that, finding himself unable to look away from your bare skin as you whimpered and hugged yourself to keep warm. His teeth gnashed together, his soul churning when he could make out the details of the bones beneath your skin too easily, alerting to him that you were _too thin_. You clearly didn't eat _enough_  to satisfy _him_.

 

_that won't do._

 

Not at all. No, that would have to be fixed. 

 

He tugged the fingers in his eye socket downward, reminding himself that the two of you hadn't even _met_  yet. Then there was the question if you even understood the concept of _soulmates_ -

 

Sans shivered.

 

_Soulmates._

 

The tugging, the buzzing, the flurry of emotions... It had to be that: his mind wasn't so far gone that he couldn't remember basic facts about the soul and soulmates were a concept long since proven and documented before his time. If a soul's other half was close enough, they would connect and bring their owners together for a match "made in heaven", as the saying goes.

 

You were obviously in distress and close enough to him that your soul must have reached out for him in desperation. For comfort. For its _match_. For _him_.

 

And like a good soulmate, he came along.

 

He leaned forward, digging his free hand in the bark of the tree as he planned out his approach. It was _obvious_  that he wouldn't be able to walk up to you and strike up a conversation: a walking, talking skeleton would scare the crap out of you, even if you _weren't_  bawling your eyes out. The last thing he needed was to chase you down and make matters worse before they could be introduced. He'd have to be _careful_  in how he started the interaction.

 

Sans didn't get far in his thoughts before his attention was drawn by someone stumbling down the path, drunkenly calling out insults. He watched you straighten immediately, your cries stopping as your entire body became as stiff as a board. From this, he gathered that whoever it was, they were calling for _you_ and decided to step around the tree to avoid being seen by whomever it was.

 

He'd _observe_  for now, gathering information to help him decide on an appropriate way to approach you.

 

It wasn't a long wait either, as the newcomer stumbled his way down the path from the same directions Sans had come from. Said skeleton narrowed his eyes when he saw it was a human _male_  heading toward you, dressed in a jeans and a simple button up while loosely holding a bottle of beer in his hand. His free hand clawed into the bark and the fingers in his eye socket jerked down again, grounding himself before he could lunge in to attack.

 

The pit of dread that was wrapped around the base of his spine only got stronger when he saw him.

 

The man seemed to have finally spotted you, quickly making his way over as he started to shout. "Hey! Where t-" He stopped abruptly after he ran straight into the back of the bench. "Where the fuck di- did you _go_?!"

 

His tone of voice instantly set Sans on guard and he began to drum his fingers on the tree in agitation.

 

_Tap-tap-tap-tap._

 

You mumbled something he couldn't quite hear, refusing to look at the man as you remained stiffly staring at the pond. This seemed to spur more yelling. "Fuh... First you _ditch_  me at the bar, now you're being a f-fucking _cocktease_?"

 

_Tap-tap-tap-tap._

 

Sans swiftly moved to a closer tree, the rapid tapping of his fingers picking up where he left off. His pupil was nothing more than a tiny dot by this point, his soul hissing and snarling in his chest that the man was a _threat_  to his soulmate. His ribs rattled ominously, forcing him to duck back when the man looked around for the sound, but he was quickly forgotten.

 

_Tap-tap-tap-tap._

 

"Y... You're not- not _interested_?" The slurred exclamation from the man made you shrink on the bench, along with the beer bottle dropping noisily to the ground.

 

_Tap-tap-tap-tap._

 

A hand grabbed your hair, jerking your head back and you cried out in pain when the other came up and struck your face.

 

Everything screeched to a halt and Sans' drumming stopped immediately, freezing him in place as the gut-wrenching _dread-dread-dread_  was sending him in a bloodthirsty frenzy.

 

You jerked forward, ripping yourself free despite the fact the man still had a clump of hair clutched in his fist that had now torn free of your scalp. A series of fresh sobs escaped your throat as you curled in on yourself defensively, your arms thrown protectively over your head. The drunk began to yell, the sound cutting through the night like a knife that only served to further drive a nail in his coffin.

 

The pain and insults thrown at you made your soul send out a wave of misery that slammed into his own like a freight train.

 

Without realizing, Sans broke off a chunk of the bark, pushing away from the tree as the flare of white hot, mind-numbing rage made him surge forward silently. He quivered, a low growl building at the base of his ribs as he stalked forward with intentions to _kill-kill-kill_. Your soul was crying out for help?

 

Well, pumpkin, he was gonna _help_.

 

"You _stupid_  fat _cunt_! When will you luuuuh... Learn to just _shut up_!"

 

_... fat?_

 

Now that he stood behind the rambling drunk, he could see your trembling form in greater detail and he could see each vertebrae of your spine pressing against your taught skin in perfect detail. You were so small: so _thin._ So _frail._  Something he _knew_  was wrong for humans. No, you were too skinny- _far too skinny_.

 

You- were you _starving_? You had to be _starving! His soulmate was_ **starving**!

 

The thought frazzled his already rattled soul and he found himself staring dumbly in shock. He knew you were skinny at a distance but up close it was so much _worse_.

 

"God, I can't even stand to look at your fat ass!" The man slurred, jabbing your back harshly with a finger.

 

"P-please _stop_!" Your frail voice shuddered out and there was a resounding click in Sans' mind.

 

_it's all this creep's_ **fault** _!_

 

However, just before his hands reached out to throttle the man's neck, you sat up and turned around to tell the him off when your eyes landed on _him_. 

 

The skeleton looming behind your tormentor. 

 

_fuck._

 

Quickly shoving his half-raised hands in his pockets, he clamped his left eye shut to avoid scaring you further with its red glow and Sans felt his grin strain to look casual as the human male whipped around to see what you were gaping at. Immediately a slew of curses were thrown out in surprise and he flailed backwards in an attempt to get away from the monster that had snuck up behind him. Sans, however, remained rooted where he was, tilting his head to help him keep open eye on you and the _threat_  that was still in arm's reach of you, caught between his instinct to kill and his soul telling him to not scare the shit out of you.

 

The red coloring your face and glistening streaks of mascara-tainted tears made it _really_  hard to not lunge for his throat.

 

_one wrong move and he's_ dead.

 

The silence that fell over the three of you could have been cut with a knife, so Sans decided to speak up first. "heya."

 

"W-what the _fuck_?" was the friendly response.

 

Sans ignored it, his eye pointedly staring at the clump of hair still clutched in the man's hand, but he addressed you. "this guy bugging ya?"

 

He knew the answer and from the look on your face, you gathered he saw what happened. Though the moment you opened your mouth to respond, the man cut in. "It's _none of your business_. Fuck off, you _freak_!"

 

" _i wasn't asking you_."

 

"You were asking my _girlfriend_ -"

 

You were quick to shoot that down with a slight slur of your own. "I'm _not_  your girlfriend!"

 

Oh that  _pleased_ Sans to no end. If you had been dating this human, he would have snapped then and there to ** _break_**  him and-

 

"Wuh... Whatever. Stay out of o-our business or I'll wipe that stup... Stupid grin off your face."

 

_please try. please oh please._

 

Instead of encouraging the human to attack, he simply continued to grin while awkwardly keeping his eye in a wink as he motioned to the hair. "look. you're being a bit of a _handful_."

 

You let out a hiccuping laugh that was partly incredulous.

 

_oh fuck that was cute._

 

The guy didn't get the joke but threw the hair down anyways. "I d-don't know who you think- think you _are_ -"

 

At the end of his patience, Sans snapped his left eye open, resisting the urge to flinch when you squeaked in surprise. " _ **s c r a m** ._ "

 

The drop in his voice paired with his crimson eye must have been the straw that broke the camel's back: the man stammered briefly and turned around, scrambling down the path as fast as his drunken legs could take him. The short skeleton had to take a deep breath to avoid taking off after him to play a twisted game of cat and mouse, subtly tracing a finger along the rim of his empty eye to help ground him in the moment. This certainly hadn't turned out the way he had hoped it would: you were probably ready to call the police at this point and he sure as hell wouldn't blame you.

 

"I..." Your voice was soft and he turned his head to see you clutching the back of the bench nervously as you swayed slightly. "Thank you..."

 

_...oh._

 

You were actually _thanking_  him? Rather than running in the opposite direction?

 

He tipped his head towards you politely. "my pleasure. mind if i sit?"

 

You slowly shook your head, motioning to the empty space beside you and very _obviously_  watching him from the corner of your eyes as he walked around the bench and sat to your left. He was shaking with anxiety from being in close proximity to you, afraid that you'll run the moment you process the fact he was a _monster_ , but at the same time... His soul was thrumming _happily_  from being next to you, a sense of peace enveloping him as he turned his gaze towards you, memorizing your features. 

 

He hadn't felt so calm in _years._  

 

Then again... He felt so anxious. You were here. In arms reach. So close when he had come to accept that you didn't exist: that he would be _alone_  forever. Sure he had Papyrus, but... Well, would Papyrus ever _really_  understand him completely? You were _made_  to be his match. You... You were so _pretty_ , all dolled up the way you were and making a point to be polite to him even though he found you at what would probably be considered "your worst": crying, abused and apparently quite tipsy yourself. And sure, you were underweight, but he could _help_  you with that. Despite your faults, you were made to be  _perfect_  for him.

 

That was a lot of pressure for him to not _fuck it up._  

 

You turned back around to sit properly, nearly falling off the bench with your uncoordinated movements and he almost lurched over to steady you. Luckily, you caught yourself and began to once again fumbling with your purse. "I'm... Sorry... You had to deal with that."

 

Were you seriously apologizing for what happened? He should be begging you for forgiveness for not _preventing_  it from happening. Five minutes within finding you and he's already allowed you to get slapped around by some _grimy human_. Just the mere thought of him made Sans want to stop what he was doing to go hunt the bastard down, but he didn't want to leave you alone and vulnerable at the same time. It was an internal struggle that nearly made him dizzy from how fast he shifted between wanting to stay and wanting to _hunt_.

 

Sans gripped his knees to hide the fact his hands were shaking. "... 's not your fault." Choosing his next words carefully, he added, "lots of creeps roam at night."

 

_said the creep roaming at night._

 

He ignored his thought as drummed his fingers on his knee.

 

_Clk-clk-clk-clk._

 

You snorted in an undignified manner. "Creepy _ex-boyfriends_. Honestly, went on one date and the guy thinks he owns me." 

 

_Clk-clk-clk-clk._

 

A bloom of nervous sweat dotted his forehead: he hasn't even gone on a date with you and thought he owned you. In his defense, the two of you were soulmates but how did he know if you  _knew_ that or not? He didn't want to piss you off _before_  making it to the first date! Does this mean he _shouldn't_  mention the soulmate thing? What if you knew and were waiting for him to speak up? Was that how this should play out? How could one lousy statement send him into a total state of panic?!

 

_Clk-clk-clk-clk._

 

Not only that...

 

It was clear that you were relaxing more than you _should_  with a stranger sitting less than a foot away from you! Sure, he was your _soulmate_ , but what if it wasn't him? What if it was some other guy like the _grease stain_  he ran off? Would you be trusting with someone else? That nearly threw him into a fit of hyperventilation while you were digging in your purse for your cellphone to use as a mirror. How the hell were you so calm when he was the emotional equivalent of a train wreck? You had all but stopped crying at this point, scrubbing the dried mascara off your cheeks without paying too much mind to the _skeleton_  next to you.

 

_do you even feel the connection?_

 

_Clk-clk-clk-clk._

 

The moment Sans thought that, you turned your head to look him dead in the eye and he had an internal panic attack. Surely you couldn't read minds!?

 

His melt down was short lived when you asked, "Be honest. Is it bad?" He was confused for a moment, until you tilted your head and lifted your fingers towards your scalp. "I don't have a bald spot now, do I?"

 

Your request, essentially, forced him to stop tapping his fingers and turn his body to face you fully. At the same time, you had scooted closer by a couple inches and was holding most of your hair back while you gestured to a spot on the left side of your scalp. Slowly, to avoid spooking you, Sans looked your head over and found a small, patch of irritated skin where a clump of hair was missing, but it was otherwise unnoticeable.

 

Knowing better than to outright tell you that you had a bald spot, Sans lied. "nah."

 

You sighed in relief, slumping into the bench more. "So, what's your deal?"

 

He froze up, jerking his body so that he was facing forward again as he tried to work out just what you were asking, exactly.

 

You noticed and tried again. "You just wander around, scaring off drunks at night and rescuing damsels in distress or what?"

 

_oh._

 

That was a relatively safe question, though he wasn't about to tell you that he was dragged here by his soul to find _you_  specifically. Instead, he shrugged and shoved his hands in his pockets. "... couldn't sleep, so i went for a walk."

 

_not a_ complete  _lie, i guess_.

 

You hummed slightly and he dared to return the question, though he was unsure of your response. "and you? i doubt you're dressed up for nothing."

 

"I was barhopping with some friends." You admitted with a small hiccup that made your body jump and his soul stutter.

 

_fuck-fuck-fuck. why is that cute?_

 

He tactfully didn't say that out loud. "where's your friends?"

 

You furrowed your brow thoughtfully as though you couldn't quite remember. "I think... I saw Micah at the bar and ditched them." you mumbled sourly, rubbing your head tenderly. "Didn't want him to spot me... Lot of good that did me."

 

_micah. micah-micah-micah._  Sans chanted the name in his head, storing it away for a later time.

 

He withdrew his phone from his pocket and noted that it was past three a.m. Plans already begun to filter through his mind, all of which were centered around gathering as much information on you as possible while getting you home safe and sound. You weren't quite _drunk off your ass_ , but it was obviously that you were teetering on that edge as your torso swayed in a small, rotating circle. He still wasn't really sure if you realized that he was a walking, talking skeleton or if you were plastered just enough to not be able to tell what was what and who was who. Maybe you genuinely didn't care if he was a monster or not?

 

It would be just his luck to have a soulmate that hated monsters.

 

While he was lost in thought, you had turned to face him more, folding your arm on the back on the bench and laying your head on it with a slight pout on your lips. In fact, had he been paying attention, he would have noticed the way you pressed your free hand against your chest as though to calm your heart. Just before he glanced over at you, you dropped your hand to trace the groove in the iron, though you were still staring at him with a pout.

 

The moment Sans noticed you watching him, his gaze was drawn to the angry, red hand print on your right cheek and his entire body became tense. The rage was beginning to engulf him all over again and he was in the process of standing up to _kill-kill-kill_  that human for daring to touch **_his_**  soulmate when your voice made him stop short.

 

"Are you local?" 

 

He leaned back on the bench, rooting himself in place, albeit stiffly. "i live with my bro in belladonna meadows."

 

_Belladonna Meadows_  being a relatively new series of apartment complexes just a few blocks away from the park. Just close enough for her soul to call out to his... It was absurdly lucky that he was even in range and his mind was already calculating the chances of that even happening. A ballpark guess? _not likely_. 

 

Sans tapped the side of his skull roughly to remind himself to stay grounded in the conversation you were having. "do you live nearby?" 

 

"Mmm... Sorta." You deflected, vaguely answering his question and shot back your own. "What's your name?"

 

_smart girl._

 

"sans. sans the skeleton." His eye locked onto you briefly before he forced himself to look away to avoid making you uncomfortable. "yours?"

 

"___." You stuck out your hand and he found himself watching as it unsteadily bobbed up and down. "What? Don't you know how to greet a new pal?"

 

Your words made him freeze as memories from long ago came screaming into the forefront of his skull. Memories from when his skull was still intact. Memories of happier times Underground. Memories of when his _friends_  were still _friends_. Memories of **_that kid_**  and the taste of dust in the air as they left a wake of destruction-

 

Reaching out gently, you pried his hand off his knee and gently shook it, the sensation of your _small_ , warm, _frail_  hand wrapped in his own bony metacarpals snapping him back to here and now. Sans' eye darted from your face to your joined hands and he was internally grateful that he wasn't wearing the hand drill that he used to "prank" humans. Now that he was aware of what was happening, he lightly squeezed your hand in return and attempted to ignore the happy, fuzzy feeling welling up in his chest.

 

"pleased to _meat_  you." Internally he panicked the moment he said that, scolding himself to reel in those sort of jokes and hoping you didn't catch his emphasis on the word.

 

You did.

 

"O-oh! Because I have meat on my bones!"

 

_we'll go with that._

 

His eye dropped to your still linked hands and he quirked a brow at you. You were too tipsy to care and continued shaking it as you once again relaxed into the bench, looking out at the pond that reflected the night sky clearly. He followed your gaze, content to stare at the bright, orange moon ripple in the water as your hand finally fell still and laid down beside you, still holding his own. 

 

He almost gagged at how sappy he felt at that moment: holding hands with a _human_  he just met? His psychologist would be _so proud_. And why were you holding his hand? Did this mean you had that nagging _sensation_  too? At this point, he was nearly convinced that you _had_  to feel it. This pounding, buzzing, happy _thrumming_  at the core of his being had to be mirrored in _you_ , right?

 

Glancing at you from the corner of his eye to get a gauge on you, he could only blink when he found your head lolled back as though you had fallen asleep. A thousand thoughts began rocketing through his mind, bringing back his pounding migraine with a vengeance as he worked through what just happened. You weren't moving and your eyes were closed, but you weren't _dead_ , otherwise his soul would literally be trying to drag him after you to whatever afterlife there may be.

 

"... hey."

 

No response.

 

Okay. You were a human that had been drinking. No reason to panic: he knew humans would fall asleep on the dime just from what he had seen from his short time on the Surface. It was late, you were probably worn out from all the stress of your ex pestering and you were drunk. You probably just passed out.

 

That didn't stop him from prodding your shoulder with his free hand.

 

Nothing.

 

Frustrated and borderline panicking, Sans pried his hand free of your own and clasped your shoulders. You weren't dead, he knew that. He... Just had to make sure you were _okay_ , that's all. You were human and didn't humans get sick easily? The roller coaster of emotions that you were dragging him through in the brief time you've encountered one another was astonishing and it only made his headache worse: _worry_  and _fear_  was most definitely his least favorite of the bunch.

 

He moved to maneuver your head into a position he could study it better, but he couldn't _see_  anything wrong with you that would make you unresponsive. It was irrational to do a complete emotional one-eighty, from content to worried half to death but he _just_  found you: he was terrified he would blink and you'd be gone! It happened too many times in the past and he knew if he wasn't careful, it would happen again and-

 

He shook his head firmly.

 

_you're just_ asleep _._

 

One of his hands cradled your head while the other slid down, pressing into your throat to feel for your pulse, shivering in relief when he found it pulsating strongly.

 

_Thmp-thmp, thmp-thmp, thmp-thmp._

 

His fingers drummed on your neck, matching the beat of your heart. It reassured him that you were still there: you were still alive. You were _okay_.

 

_Thmp-thmp, thmp-thmp, thmp-thmp._

 

Everything was going to be okay. Sure, you may or may not know what Sans was to you and he had no idea on how to go about romancing you into loving him as much as he was loving you-

 

_slow down, bucko. don't skip steps one through twenty._

 

He could take his time. Get to know you better. Let you get to know _him_  better.

 

_Thmp-thmp, thmp-thmp, thmp-thmp._

 

A sudden snore from you made Sans reel back as though you burned him, his eye light going dark and his hands shot up in the air as though to say " _i didn't do anything!_ ".

 

All you did was scratch your neck and slump further into the bench.

 

_... right. definitely asleep then._

 

Now feeling abashed for getting worked up over nothing, he decided that it was definitely getting a bit nippier and that it would be wise to just get you home at this point. So, he decided that this would work in his favor as he reached over and tugged your purse from your hands, allowing you to lay limply beside him as he dug through it. There wasn't much inside: just a phone, a pack of tissues, keys, a wallet and... Tampons. Good to know? 

 

He ignored the latter in favor of pulling out your wallet, poking around inside. There wasn't much aside from a few reward cards, your driver's license a debit card and a couple receipts for gas and groceries. He pulled out your license, sucking in a breath when he saw the picture of you smiling radiantly at him, your cheeks plumper than they were now. 

 

He checked the listed weight and just from eyeballing you, he assumed that you were about forty pounds lighter than what the card said you were seven years ago, if the issue date of it was anything to go off of.

 

_interesting._

 

It was a mystery for another day, unfortunately, and he made himself focus more on memorizing your address for now. There was a brief moment where he considered going through your phone, but settled against the idea: it would be better for the both of you if he learned things from the source. Yeah, snooping further would give him the information he _wants_ , but his head injury wouldn't allow for him to clearly remember to not admit that he was doing something he shouldn't have.

 

He could always nose around later on, anyways.

 

Sans tucked your belongings back into your purse and looped the strap around your shoulder, leaning in to scoop you into his arms so that he could bring you home for the night.

 

It was at that moment that your eyes cracked open a sliver and you keeled over, vomiting all over the ground and his slippers.

 

XxX

 

Honestly, it wasn't too hard to get you into your apartment, aside from the puking incident.

 

Sans had to look it up on his phone, but once he had the general area in mind, all he did was teleport the two of you over to what looked like a run-of-the-mill apartment complex. Sure, he was _worried_  someone would spot him in the process of carrying your completely limp body and call the cops on him just because he was a monster, but he somehow managed to luck out when he didn't come across a single soul. 

 

At that point, it was just a matter of juggling your unconscious form, your shoes and digging in your purse for your keys to get the door open.

 

Once inside, he made quick work of locating your bedroom and dumping you onto your bed. From there, he tried to decide if it would be worth the effort to shove you into a pair of pajamas, but ultimately decided that it was best to leave you as is. Not only for modesty, but because he knew that _you_  probably knew that you would have been black out drunk by the time you got home and wouldn't have been able to coordinate yourself enough to change clothes. 

 

So, he made a point to position your shoes as though you had kicked them off and dropped your purse and keys by the door, along with moving objects slightly to appear as though you had bumped into them.

 

While he did this, he noticed a fire escape just outside the window in your living room.

 

_oh. that's convenient._

 

He made note of that for if he needed to get in and out unnoticed and began to rifle through the small, dingy apartment for signs of a roommate. When he found none, he couldn't help the pleased rumble deep in chest and he opened your fridge to check the status there. That made him frown instantly when he saw that it was _bare bones_ : a few condiments, milk, the makings for a sandwich and a few vegetables on the side.

 

_Tap-tap-tap-tap._

 

Sans shut the fridge, telling himself that there was no use in working himself up about this _now_. He wasn't in a position where he could _make you_  stock up more and it could possibly make matters worse if he didn't go about this the right way. No, for now, he needed to figure out a way to have an encounter with you while you were _sober_. He could make a better impression that way.

 

Finding himself shuffling back towards your room, he began to poke around for something that would tell him where you would be the next day. A planner, sticky notes, ticket stubs: _anything_. If he had to, he _would_  just go through your phone, consequences be damned and-

 

His eye fell on a uniform neatly folded on your dresser.

 

Tomorrow was a Monday. It'd be safe to assume you'd be going to _work_  just like every other person in this city.

 

Reaching out, he carefully picked up the work shirt, unfolding it enough so that he could read the company name  embroidered above the left breast pocket.

 

_Déjà Brew._

 

Ah. You worked at a _coffee shop_.

 

Sans' grin stretched wider. "see you tomorrow, pumpkin."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just the start of a beautifully awkward romance. Mwhahaha.
> 
> Anywho, I hope you enjoyed it! And I hope I was able to portray Sans in the light I wanted: a big ol' mess of mental problems that are in the process of healing. I'm sure it was also obvious that I drew inspiration from my "Red Thread of Fate" story, but as they're both Sans-centric, I imagine that they would still react somewhat similarly to finding their soulmates, though in their own "unique" ways. I mean, a Sans is a Sans, even if they have different backgrounds. Personalities remain mostly the same, so to speak.
> 
> As for the reader, I decided that it would be interesting to write them/they/you(?) as someone who obviously suffers from an eating disorder that I'll touch on more in the next bit. Thooough the driver's license detail is a major clue as to what's up with that whole thing. 
> 
> I'm sure it's not going to be my most popular decision to have an anorexic "reader", but I have my reasons!! Please stick with me on this and it'll aaaaall make sense! And like the tags says: happy endings!! Things do get better! 
> 
> So... Hopefully I'll see you all next chapter!
> 
> Like what I do~? [Buy Me a Coffee](https://ko-fi.com/A0364H6B)
> 
> Until next time, dearies~ Ta~


	2. Drama is Brewing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well that's awkward. Whoops?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meant to post this on Valentine's Day but I got sent to the hospital instead wooo
> 
> also genuinely surprised people like my garbage writing. like wut? how?

 

 

Sans was at the coffee shop at the crack of dawn despite the fact it was raining cats and dogs.

 

He had never heard of it before, but a quick look for it online and he had the address, hours, menu items (with prices) and a chart of what times of days were the most busy. To be honest, he probably would have never gave the place a second glance due to him not even being a big fan of the caffeine, but the prospect of seeing _you_  again was too much to resist. The very thought had kept him tossing and turning in his bed the measly two hours he had been home.

 

His intention was to just hang around until he was forced away by his own work and he _knew_  you were there already - or at least in the area - because of the thrumming that vibrated in his chest. He was more than happy to just sit back and watch you work as he struggled to come up with a way to break the ice. Though, even with him knowing you were just inside the door, he had ended up lurking under the awning at the front of the building for several minutes before he actually worked up the courage to go inside. 

 

There wasn't much else to his plan either, other than buying a beverage and finding some corner to skulk ( _heh_ ) around in, but he still couldn't help the nervous feeling that hammered in his gut. 

 

Would you remember him from last night? It could go either way, even though it had only been a couple hours since he last saw you; you _had_ been fairly drunk.

 

_did she forget...?_

 

Surely not, but you never knew when it came to how fickle humans could be. Not that you were fickle: just drunk. _Very_  drunk, considering the amount you threw up all over the place. Sans scuffed his sneaker on the sidewalk as he remembered his slippers were still in the washer from said incident, shuddering as he pushed it from his mind. Point was, you may or may not remember him, so this could be his _big chance_  to knock you off your feet. Knock your socks off. Blow your mind. Blow you away. Race your motor-

 

He shook his head firmly and yanked the door open.

 

A  _whoosh_  of warm air hit him and he was honestly surprised by how nice it was inside, his gaze drawn to the spacious area for customers to relax in with a little gas fireplace that was burning in the corner. There were a few booths lining the window the look out into the street and a variety of tasteful tables with chairs and sofas that filled the rest of the space while there were a handful of simplistic, yet charming paintings placed here and there. Overall, it was a quaint café that already had a couple people scattered throughout the shop with a handful of people standing in line as a college-aged girl shuffled along slowly behind the counter. 

 

There was a small display case of pastries beside the counter, showing off scrumptious looking items from croissants to muffins to elaborate looking tea cakes that made his stomach growl hungrily. All of this together made it glaringly obvious that it was a locally owned store rather than a chain and he mused over the sound of slow jazz music playing overhead as he stepped in line behind a nervous looking business man.

 

_cozy._

 

The only problem was how long the girl was taking to make a single drink: in the time it took for Sans to soak in the atmosphere and get in line, she had only completed a single order. Not that he really cared: he wasn't in a rush to actually buy anything since he just needed an excuse to hang around the premises without having the cops called on him for loitering.

 

It was obvious that the two men in front of him were already getting more and more impatient by the second until finally, one snapped at the girl, making her jump. "Can I speak with your manager?"

 

Sans lifted his brows and watched the drama unfold, though his focus was more on the buzzing in his soul that was getting stronger as you were apparently moving around close by. The girl nodded mutely and ducked into an open doorway off to the side that he hadn't noticed before, quickly muttering something to whoever was back there. She scurried back over to the drink she was making, pointedly taking her time to pump a mocha syrup into it as a groan came from the doorway and from what he could see, it was a small kitchen that resided just on the other side. Presumably, whoever was back there was in the process of either making or preparing the food that went into the display case.

 

Then out you stepped in all of your hungover glory.

 

_it's her, it's her, it's her_ , his soul chanted as it beat against his ribs eagerly.

 

You looked as though you had barely slept a wink, your eyes tired and droopy while your shoulders slouched a bit before you straightened them and came over to the counter. He was honestly surprised that your appearance was well put together: not a hair out of place nor a single wrinkle on your uniform. Had it been him that was hungover and sleep deprived, he'd be lucky to even get his clothes on at all and that was _if_  he decided to even bother leaving his bed. Your voice sounded exhausted as well, making you slowly and carefully enunciate each word so that you didn't accidentally mumble or slur as you calmly spoke to the man.

 

You did, however, turn and level the girl with a pointed glare that screamed "hurry up" and "we're going to have a _long talk_  about this later".

 

_huh. you're the manager, i guess._

 

She wisely did so, quickly snapping a lid onto the drink she was making and promptly handing it over before taking the next order. The man that had demanded to speak to seemed mollified that the girl would be scolded and snatched up his drink, leaving without another word as the next person stepped up, giving their order. Having you hovering nearby seemed to be exactly what she needed to hurry up because she wasn't moving along at a snail's pace and you seemed to be satisfied enough that you could go about making yourself a coffee.

 

_boy do you need it, pumpkin._

 

As if you heard him, you briefly glanced up as you stuck your mug under the steamer, your eyes not quite registering what they saw as you looked back down. Only to immediately do a double take to openly stare at him. He pretended to not notice and simply gauged your reaction, watching from the corner of his eye at how you squinted at him. There was a vague sense of recognition on your face, but it was difficult to tell if you remembered what happened last night or if you were under the impression that it had been some weird, drunken dream. Not that he _really_  minded: last night had been pretty stressful for you and he couldn't really bring himself to be mad if you _had_  forgotten.

 

The person in front of him grabbed their drink and walked out the door, allowing Sans to step up to the counter, but before he could even open his mouth to place his order, the girl took one look at him and shook her head. "No."

 

"... excuse me?"

 

You turned, furrowing your brow as you stirred your drink and he wasn't sure if the pulse of anger in his chest was from him or from his soul picking up on your emotions.

 

"I'm refusing to serve you. Go somewhere else."

 

His brow bones lifted, tilting his head towards you and the growing look of irritation that was overtaking your expression. "is that so?"

 

"Yes. Get out before-"

 

You grabbed her shoulder and quietly hissed, "What do you think you're doing?"

 

"He's a monster and I don't want to serve _monsters_." The girl snapped back just as quietly.

 

You gave your coworker a dry, hungover look with narrowed, bloodshot eyes. "It's not _your_  business to deny him. He's a person, just sans the flesh. Buck it up and take his order or get out of my goddamn coffee shop."

 

He wasn't sure if you actually remembered his name or if you were just saying that, but he was flattered all the same.

 

_wait..._ your _coffee shop?_

 

"But... I have a right to say I won't serve him." The girl squeaked back, looking bewildered by your tone. "I... Refuse to serve a monster and you can't step on my rights and _make_  me!"

 

There was a brief moment of silence as you let go of her shoulder and leaned back against the counter.

 

"Sure. Do whatever you want." You took a long sip of your coffee, giving the girl enough time to feel smug before adding, "You're fired. Get out."

 

Sans felt his grin twitch in malicious pleasure. _get 'er, pumpkin._

 

She blinked. "What? _Why_!? You can't-"

 

"You have a right to be stupid: I have a right to fire you for insubordination, unethical conduct, and a shitty job performance." You were merciless in your verbal lashing and he had to wonder if it was normal for you or if you were just _that_  hungover and it made you pissy. "It takes you five minutes to make one damn latte and you take hour long lunch breaks when you work five hour shifts and bitch when I refuse to give you paid breaks. I don't think you've arrived on time _once_  and the amount of complaints I get over you is ridiculous."

 

Was... Was this really the same woman getting bullied in the park last night?

 

The girl tried protesting again. "You _can't!_ "

 

Setting your mug down, you stepped around her and reached inside the kitchen, pulling out an apron that you looped over your head. "Can. Did. Leave your apron and don't let the door smack your ass." You shooed her out of the way dismissively. "Buh-bye."

 

She cussed you loudly, going around the counter without removing the apron and went to shoulder-checked Sans as she stomped towards the door. He sidestepped easily, resisting the urge to snap his teeth at her: the _brat_  was really asking for it and he wasn't sure if he could restrain himself if she stuck around much longer.

 

You called after her. "I guess that means I'm keeping sixty bucks from your last paycheck to replace the apron." 

 

She stomped back and threw it on the counter, whirling around to storm out the door. You didn't even blink when the door slammed shut, simply going about washing your hands thoroughly as though it never happened. Once done, you quickly dried off your hands before taking the girl's place behind the counter and he miserably noted your cheek was bright red where you had been slapped a few hours before. From his experience, it would take a day or two for the bruise to appear and it would serve as a reminder at how he _failed_  you as a soulmate and-

 

Lazily placing his hand on the counter, Sans tapped his fingers.

 

_Tap-tap-tap-tap._

 

"so... she was all _froth_ and no substance?" he joked lamely, trying to break the ice. You weren't impressed. "sorry i... uh, cost you a worker."

 

_Tap-tap-tap-tap._

 

"No skin off my nose." You said absently, once again not noticing the pun you made as you looked him up and down. "What was your order?"

 

_Tap-tap-tap-tap._

 

"chai tea." As an afterthought, he quickly added, "please."

 

_Tap-tap-_  Wait. What if you thought he was trying to rush you by tapping his fingers? He stuffed his hands in his pockets to avoid taking that risk.

 

You moved quickly through your equipment despite your dead-tired appearance. "For here or to go?" He answered with a quiet "here" and you grabbed a freshly cleaned mug. "Want some milk in that?"

 

Put on the spot, he simply shrugged a shoulder lazily. "surprise me."

 

In what felt like no time at all, you had finished and set a large, ceramic mug on the counter. "Here you go: one chai tea with coconut milk. Free of charge for the trouble."

 

He handed you a ten anyways, shoving it in your hand a bit forcefully to make you keep it and picked up his mug, sauntering towards a booth. "thanks a _latte_."

 

You stared at him and then the money in your hand for a moment before the next customer demanded your attention, allowing him to quietly slip into the corner near the fireplace that would allow him to see everything happening in the shop. There was a pleased hum building in his throat as he sank into his seat, grinning to himself when he saw you tuck the "tip" into a pocket of your apron and he took a sip of the tea you had made.

 

_huh, not bad_.

 

So far, he felt everything was going smoothly, even though he was harassed by the racist brat but hey, _you_  came to his defense and that alone was enough to brighten his mood.

 

That, along with the glances you kept casting his way.

 

He always pretended to be preoccupied with his phone when you looked his way, but hell if it didn't make him feel good that you were even bothering to do so. You were obviously busy and were the only barista in the building, though you did take a moment to make a few calls to request someone to come in to replace the girl you had fired. Luckily, your attention was mostly stuck on serving the steady stream of customers that walked up to your counter and this allowed for Sans to watch you with minimal risk of you actually _noticing_  he was staring like a creeper. It, surprisingly, allowed him to learn quite a few things about you.

 

You were meticulous with your work and have obviously been doing this for a _long_  time, judging from how you efficiently completed orders in a timely manner even though you were _blatantly_  hungover. He also noted that when you were measuring ingredients, your nose would crinkle in concentration before relaxing into a neutral, tired expression and you were meticulous when it came to cleanliness: you would wash your hands approximately every ten or fifteen minutes, no matter what you were in the process of doing. If there was a lull in customers, you kept busy by wiping everything down or returning products to their proper places or by ducking through the door to, from what he could see, roll out pastries.

 

Sans worried that you were going to work yourself into the ground and he had only been there for a few hours at that point. The only breaks you would take was when you paused to sip on your coffee before you moved along to complete some other task. It made him wonder if you had taken the time to eat today, the memory of your nearly empty fridge and bony figure making his soul roil anxiously. Sure, your clothes hid how thin you were quite well, but he couldn't shake the image of your small, helpless form from his head and he wanted nothing more than to jump over that counter to shove one of those egg muffins down your throat.

 

He had to sink further into his seat to keep from doing just that, his fingertips tapping on the back of his phone.

 

_Clk-clk-clk-clk._

 

Fortunately, a young woman with multi-colored hair - Sans openly stared as he tried to figure out how a human had hair the color of blue and pink cotton candy -  showed up within thirty minutes to help you out, followed shortly by a bearded man. The skeleton squinted at the two workers, baffled by how utterly different they were from one another: the woman was tiny, shorter than you by several inches and nearly as skinny, though in a much healthier sense. She was bright and cheerful, laughing in good nature at your bloodshot eyes and murmuring in concern about the mark on your face, showing him that the two of you were on much better terms than the girl you had fired.

 

_Clk-clk-clk-clk._

 

The man, however, was tall, built like an ox on steroids and was stoically silent. From what Sans could see, he was also covered in tattoos, his forearms and neck darkened with ink and he had to admit it was... _Interesting_  how humans would decorate their bodies with those markings. He was suspicious of them and honestly, with how he had met you? It was only natural for him to be suspicious of any and every human that interacted with you, especially when the three of you were bumping into one another behind the counter thanks to the man's large size: he was half afraid you'd be knocked to the ground or elbowed in the face.

 

_Clk-clk-clk-clk._

 

Much to his relief, the woman shooed you out from behind the counter by dropping a croissant in your hands and demanding you take a break. You didn't protest, grabbing your coffee and wandering back through the door that led to the kitchen, but not before pausing and scanning the shop. Sans quickly stared down at his phone and took a gulp of his tea to avoid making eye contact, watching from the corner of his eye as you squeezed through your coworkers and came out from behind the counter. Walking towards him. 

 

He froze up.

 

_oh shit oh shit oh shit._

 

You stood at the opposite side of his table, your face neutrally tired and you quietly asked, "Mind if I sit with you?"

 

Mimicking your action from the night before, Sans mutely shook his head and nodded towards the empty chair in front of him. You pulled it out and sat down, placing the croissant and mug in front of you before you stared him down with a look of concentration plastered on your face. He nervously looked around, unsure of what you were doing or if you even knew who he was and he could feel his soul going haywire from your close and _willing_  proximity. The urge to say something, anything was clawing up his throat and he was almost certain that he was about to spew some form of creepy word vomit and-

 

"Relax, I don't bite." You deadpanned as you picked at your food, tearing it into small, bite sized pieces. "I think we met last night."

 

_oh._

 

Sans cocked his head to the side and played along. "did we?"

 

"I guess it was some other skeleton that ran off my ex. My bad." You started to stand up and panic rang throughout his body.

 

He lurched forward, dropping his phone onto the table and raising his hands as though to physically stop you. "no no no! don't go- that was me!"

 

You sat back down with a wry smirk and he realized just how desperate that sounded. 

 

_fuck._

 

Clearing his throat, he slumped further into his seat. "sorry."

 

The amused sparkle in your eyes made his chest ache happily. "Sans, right?"

 

Everything in his mind screeched to a halt when his name tumbled from your mouth, his pupil dilating as he looked you up and down. 

 

So you _did_  remember.

 

"mhm. and you're ___, right?" You nodded and he grinned. "how you holdin' up?"

 

You released a breath he hadn't realized you had been holding. "Good, considering what could've happened. I'm really lucky you came along: I was _pretty_  drunk."

 

He didn't want to think about what _could_  have happened if he wasn't there.

 

"So... I wanted to thank you again." You softly said, brushing a stray strand of hair away from your eyes.

 

His fingers rapidly clicked against his skull and he wasn't even aware that he had leaned forward rest his elbow on the table so he could prop his head up in the palm of his hand. You blinked in surprise at the sudden movement and shifted a bit, dropping your eyes to the torn up food while nervously popping a bite into your mouth. His grin stretched wider and he hummed in approval, though he quickly realized what he was doing and that he had yet to respond.

 

_Tck-tck-tck-tck._

 

"of course." he finally answered, reminding himself to tone down the odd behaviors. "don't mention it."

 

_Tck-tck-tck-tck._

 

"I didn't think I'd get to see you again, but man, here you are." There was a wistful undertone in your voice and he dared to think that you were happy to see him. "I wanted to tell you something..."

 

_Tck-tck-tck-tck._

 

With baited breath, he prompted you to speak. "yeah..?"

 

"You're a lying son of a bitch."

 

Sans accidentally clawed the side of his face when your eyes narrowed at him in a righteous glare and he could feel a stutter in his soul at the action. Did you know he entered your home? Did you know he was your soulmate and you were pissed he didn't speak up? Should he have hunted Micah down and _killed_ him? What did he do wrong? _Why were you mad at him?!_

 

_Tck-tck-tck-tck-tck-tck-tck-tck-tck-tck-tck-tck._

 

_what do i do, what do i do, what do i do!?_

 

You snorted at his look of absolute terror and turned your head, raising your hands to part your hair to reveal a scabby and bare patch of skin. "I do _too_  have a bald spot!"

 

_...oh. that._

 

The drumming of his fingers against his skull slowed and he smiled apologetically. "you were kinda in _choc_  and i didn't want to make it worse."

 

"Yeah, well, honesty is the best policy." You smoothed out your hair and took a drink from your mug. "It'll work better for you in the long run."

 

_are you hinting at something?_  

 

Now he felt more conflicted that ever as he contemplated just outright asking you if you were aware the two of you were soulmates. Though a pun slipped out instead. "hones- _tea_  is a good attri _brew_ t." You sighed. "was that a bit _lukewarm_? i can _heat_  it up."  

 

You looked ready to dump your coffee on him. "No no, please don't. My daughter pelts me with enough puns as it is."

 

_Daughter._

 

The word made Sans tense up, but he did his best to keep you from noticing it as you nibbled on another small piece of the croissant. _Daughter._  He didn't notice signs of a kid when he was in your apartment. He didn't recall seeing _anything_  that suggested you had a child. It was a one bedroom and practically threadbare living space that didn't even have enough food to satisfy a kid for a day. Unless he _missed_  something. How could he have done that? He was _certain_  that he didn't see a child anywhere when he took you home.

 

Did this mean you were currently involved with someone that wasn't _him_? He vaguely knew how humans produced children and that it required a partner, so was there competition that he needed to be concerned about? What was he supposed to do now? How was he supposed to be your _perfect match_  if you were already with someone else? 

 

_Who was he going to have to get rid of to make it possible to be together?_

 

You made a disgruntled sound in the back of your throat and he tuned back in just in time to see you roll your eyes. "That's about the reaction I get every time a guy finds out I have a kid."

 

_oh?_

 

"i was surprised." he said truthfully, then outright lied. "you seem a bit young for a kid."

 

Your lips were pursed. "Old enough."

 

Sans could feel anxiety crawling up his spine as he watched you turn defensive. "you said a daughter? how old?"

 

You seemed to relax a bit, shrugging your shoulders slightly. "She's turning fifteen in a couple weeks."

 

So he somehow managed to miss that you had a _teenager_  in your house. Nice. He was really going soft from being on the Surface.

 

"ah. the fun years." 

 

A snort escaped you and he felt some of the tension in his back melt when you cracked a smile. "She's not a delinquent, if that's what you're thinking." You took another bite and began to wrap the rest up in a napkin to save for later: Sans nearly pouted since you hadn't even ate half of it. "I'm sorry, I have to get back to work. Will you be here for long?"

 

He glanced at his phone, the numbers reading _9:37 AM_  back at him. Had he really been here for several hours already? "a bit longer."

 

You hummed an acknowledgment and scooped up his empty mug. "I'll get you a refill. Want something to go with it?"

 

His stomach gurgled hungrily at the thought of consuming one of the scrumptious looking items on display, but his soul bitterly told him _no_. Not if his soulmate didn't finish eating. How could he consider eating when he _needed_  to make sure Papyrus and his _soulmate_ ate first before he even _dared_  to think about taking a single **_goddamn bite_** -

 

_Tap-tap-tap-tap._

 

Sans took a deep breath a reassured himself. He wasn't Underground. Food was plentiful. The fridge at home was overflowing and you were slowly but surely eating the croissant. It was _okay_  to eat.

 

_Tap-tap-tap-tap._

 

"surprise me." he finally said, grinning up at you with a forced laziness as he clacked his fingers on the table; unable to bring himself to completely agree to the food.

 

_Tap-tap-tap-tap._

 

You stared at him for a long moment, your eyes seemingly staring right into his very soul with a _knowing_ glint and he started to sweat, wondering if you had somehow heard his erratic thoughts. The thought of you somehow having a mind reading ability nearly had him cowering before you with anxiety: he could barely stand his own thoughts sometimes, so how could he make you deal with them as well? Could you hear him when he was considering _mutilating_  Micah? A potential competitor for your attention? Could you hear his thoughts _right now!?_

 

_Tap-tap-tap-tap._

 

He carefully decided to test it.

 

_if you can hear me, blink twice._

 

You blinked once, in the process of turning away and he panicked when your face angled so that he couldn't tell if you blinked twice or not. What did _that_  mean!? You could? By Asgore's dick- _he hoped not_! Surely you couldn't- no, you would have reacted in some form or another to his many, many fucked up thoughts by now. There was just _no way_  that a human could read minds. Maybe glean emotions off his soul, but mind reading was- it was stupid.

 

_Tap-tap-tap-tap._

 

He watched you fix his drink, hooking his fingers just inside his eye socket to ground himself from the ridiculous conspiracy theories.

 

_yeah. stupid._

 

_Tap-tap-tap-tap._

 

You were back at his table in no time, placing the drink in front of him along with a box with a mouthwatering ham and cheese toaster beside a glistening cinnamon roll. "Here you go: on the house, of course. Once again, I'm sorry for how you were treated: rest assured, it won't happen again."

 

He stared at the food, his stomach gurgling painfully as he wracked his head for something to say. "it looks good." 

 

There was a proud puff in your chest at the compliment. "I make it all myself from scratch, bread included. Well, except for the ham: I get that from the market." You rambled a bit, your obvious tiredness making the words tumble out. "Baking is my specialty."

 

Your words made the food all the more tempting - all of it made by you? _yes please_! - and he nearly tore it open then and there, but he restrained himself as he murmured a shy "thank you", unsure of what else he could say to you. Your tired eyes crinkled at him as you lifted your hand in a wave, turning to return to the counter and he wanted to reach out to grasp that hand: he wanted you to stay but you  _couldn't_  right now.

 

The thought of not being right there with him you almost had Sans wheezing in anxiety, but he told himself that it was okay: you were just on the other side of the counter.

 

"Hope you'll like it: just come up to the counter if you need a refill. You're good for the day."

 

He felt his shoulders relax and his grin came more easily as he let his hands hover near the food _you_  made. "yeah, thanks."

 

His gaze never left you as you slipped behind the counter and into the kitchen and he let his eye drop when he noticed your coworkers pause to shoot him curious glances. He would have to keep a close eye on them as well to be sure that they were _safe_  for you to be near, but a brief glance at their stats kept him from worrying too much about them: nothing stood out as dangerous to him. The only concern he really had was if they were reliable and even then, he couldn't fully bring himself to care an awful lot about them. If they ended up being trouble, he'd get rid of them.

 

Instead, Sans let his mind wander as he longingly stared at the wall you were behind. Maybe he could trade numbers with you before he left? Or is this perhaps too soon by human standards?

 

_Clnk-clnk-clnk-clnk._

 

As he tapped lightly on his mug, the enticing scent of the food was too much to resist and he found himself opening the box, tearing off a piece of the ham and cheese toaster. Knowing that you had made the food left his soul pounding in anticipation and he hurriedly tossed the piece into his mouth, nearly groaning when a burst of flavors hit him. It was _delicious_  and the magic in his bones thrummed happily when he felt a surge of bliss shoot through him: when it came to cooking, monsters could taste the intent behind the food. It was how he could stand Papyrus' questionable cooking.

 

If someone's heart wasn't in it? It would be obvious, but your food...

 

_Clnk-clnk-clnk-clnk._

 

He could tell you made this in hopes that people would love it and it showed with the delectable _zing_  of energy the you had unconsciously poured into it. One could quite literally put their heart and soul into something and it would be imbued with said intentions.

 

_Clnk-clnk-clnk-clnk._

 

Sans eagerly began wolfing down the rest of it, feeling lighter and more thrilled with every bite while wondering what a meal made specifically for _him_  would taste like.

 

_i wonder what you would taste like, pumpkin._

 

He gently reminded himself to slow down, both in his thoughts and his eating so that he could savor this better. It was a taste he could easily find himself becoming addicted to and he saw himself possibly coming here every day to get his "fix". Of you and your culinary delights. Papyrus would adore the shop as well: clean, comfy and not a speck of grease in sight. It made him giddy to even imagine you and his brother getting along and he felt _content_ that everything seemed to be falling into place quite nicely.

 

He had yet to find an issue with this "soulmate" deal, aside from your obvious thinness and... Possible competitor that may or may not exist. 

 

_Clnk-clnk-clnk-clnk._

 

Sans heard the bell over the door ring, but he ignored it as he continued to dig into his food, happily digging into the treats you so kindly gave him. The humans behind the counter let loose some heartfelt greetings for what he assumed was a friend, the girl whooping out a series of "Hey kiddo!" and "Long time no see, you handsome devil!" while the male grunted out a gruff "Hello, bucko". It was enough to make him look up curiously to see a teen at the counter, leaning on it as they reached over it to hug the girl and slapping the man's hand in a high-five.

 

_Clnk-clnk-clnk-clnk._

 

He squinted, taking in the teen's attire that consisted of a pair of overalls shorts, a bright yellow raincoat and a pair of red rain boots that nearly came up to their knees as they were obviously dressed for the weather. They waved their hands animatedly as they spoke, an umbrella clutched in one hand and he to admit that he had a hard time discerning the gender as they seemed to have a backpack underneath the coat that gave them a hunched back, along with the hood that was securely over their head.

 

This, however, didn't last for long as they reached up, tugging the hood down and he suspiciously glowered at the brown bob of hair that bounced with the slightest move their head made.

 

_Clnk-clnk-clnk-clnk._

 

The woman hollered into the doorway to the kitchen. "Hey boss! Mini-Boss is here!"

 

_Clnk-clnk-clnk-clnk._

 

You quickly stepped out from the back, covered in flour as you dusted your hands off on your apron and he swore that your eyes were literally sparkling as you came around the counter to embrace the teen lovingly. "Sweetie! How was your stay at your Grandma's?"

 

_that must be the kid you mentioned_ , he glumly thought as he shoved down the spark of jealousy at the way you warmly greeted them- well. _Her_ , as you had said.

 

The two of you pulled apart and Sans noted that the kid stood a few inches shorter than you, though she must be soft-spoken since he couldn't hear what the response was. Though, you mentioned being at a grandma's so that explained how he initially missed the brat, but then again, you only had a single bedroom apartment? He would need to go through it again to see what he missed. Maybe one of you slept on the couch...

 

_Clnk-clnk-clnk-clnk._

 

He pulled himself from his thoughts and craned his neck to get a better look at the kid, finally catching a glimpse of her face and...

 

_Scrrreeeeeeech!_

 

The table in front of Sans grated against the floor, producing a blood-curdling sound the moment he jerked to stand up, his femurs knocking against it noisily. The coffee shop fell silent at his sudden action and he could feel his magic pounding in his skull as he stared at the teen, his eye overblown and focused on her with a sense of recognition and nausea. Thanks to the noise he made, you were staring over in concern and your _kid_... They were staring in horror. Absolute _terror_.

 

The more he stared, the more he realized that it wasn't fear, but  _regret_  that shone in those bright, ruby red eyes.

 

_it's them, it's them, it's_ **_them_**.

 

Frisk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally flipped a coin for Frisk's gender in this plz don't kill me
> 
> I originally wrote them as gender-neutral, but then this thing became a whole block of "they" and "you" and it drove me nuts. So they got a gender at the whim of a coin-toss, but I still have plans of them acting mostly gender neutral so eey? 
> 
> Anyways, I'm intending to stick as close to Sour Apple's comics as possible, and from what I've gathered by reading it, Sans *did NOT* eat much, if at all, which may explain his actions now and later when it comes to food. Though I don't want to spoil it for people who haven't read it so I won't discuss it in details until a later chapter. 
> 
> You totally should though. Since I'm basing everything off it? And you're more likely to put together hints and clues if you read it so... I'll leave this link here: https://sour-apple-studios.deviantart.com/art/Horrortale-01-Fallen-recolored-604118390
> 
> Read it. S'good stuff.
> 
> Also surprise you have a kid in this lolol. And it's Frisky! Then there's Sans' reaction and psychological troubles. Have fun stewing on what might happen until I vomit out another chapter, though that may be slow because I'm pretty sick at the moment? Please be patient with meeee!
> 
> Like what I do~? [Buy Me a Coffee](https://ko-fi.com/A0364H6B)


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